


Haunted

by Narcissistic_Ninny



Category: One Piece
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-05
Updated: 2012-12-05
Packaged: 2017-11-20 09:14:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/583704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Narcissistic_Ninny/pseuds/Narcissistic_Ninny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s hard to help Zoro when he doesn’t want to talk.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Haunted

Even before he entered his room later at night, he had known something was wrong. He had sensed something different about the Baratie when he had been cooking side by side with the old man, and when Zeff asked, he had lied, said he was fine even with beads of sweat collecting around the collar of his shirt.

He knew of course, what it was. Long ago he learned what exactly that feeling was and who came with it.

After his shift was over, he went down below where his room was located. He locked the door, standing there by the frame, not bothering to turn on the light.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” he asked the darkness, a hint of bitterness in his voice.

There was a creak when the other man’s boots took a step on the wooden floor but Sanji was too slow to react when he was pressed against his door, Zoro’s hand on his shoulder, fingers touching his neck. It was still dark, and he couldn’t make out the man before him, only felt the heat from his body, could hear his steady breathing.

“I was in the neighbourhood,” he said smoothly, voice like silk. Then Sanji sees it, the glint in his eyes, icy as the rest of him. “Thought I would stop by.”

Sanji pushed at him, hitting his shoulder when he strolled past him. “Got lost again did you?”

Zoro didn’t answer.

Four steps and Sanji reached his bed, where he sat on the edge of his mattress, setting his ankle on his knee to take off his shoes. He rubbed at his tired feet with his hands. Minutes went on like this, then he dropped his shoes to sit beside his feet planted on the hard wood floor, dropped his face in his hands, felt his shoulders shaking despite himself. “Why are you here?”

He didn’t have to look up to know Zoro hadn’t moved from his spot by the door.

“Why?” Sanji asked again, weaker this time. He sounded as tired as he felt.

The swordsman didn’t mutter a word when he stepped up to Sanji, kneeled in front of him, hands resting on the cook’s thighs. Sanji breathed huskily when he massaged his legs, hands sliding over him, making him burn inside, making him want to get lost in that touch.

“I didn’t get lost.”

He’s used to Zoro being calm and collected, used to his stoic expressions and quiet demeanour, but this is different. This isn’t Zoro.

 _You_ are _lost._

Zoro pushed gently at his shoulder with little force. Sanji fell easily on the bed, putting up no fight. Zoro wrapped an arm under him, lifting him to place him higher on the bed, laid him down and kissed him roughly, only breaking it to bite his collarbone.

A rough calloused hand slid between them, and Sanji arched into his palm, thrust his erection into his rubbing hand and moaned for more. Zoro muffled his moans with a kiss while he unbuckled Sanji’s belt, slid his pants and boxers off his pale hips. When Sanji was naked beneath him, Zoro shed his own clothing.

“I’m so pissed at you,” Sanji said, hooking his legs around him when he was stripped naked.

Zoro looked at him, just looked.

Behind his black pupils and brown irises, Sanji can’t see a single damn thing. He reminds himself to close his eyes, flutters blond lashes and makes the world black.

Another kiss is placed on his lips; it’s hard enough for Sanji to feel it in his core. Zoro took in the time to cover his creamy flesh with rough kisses and angry bite marks. There’s always possessiveness with Zoro these days, almost a panic that Sanji will reject him and then, Zoro will be alone.

Sanji won’t let that happen.

He grabs for Zoro, crawls at him, arches his back and into his touches, whispers on his lips, “God damn you.”

There was a reason why he usually screwed his eyes shut. It wasn’t to avoid seeing Zoro’s expression, that blank and cold look; he did it so Zoro couldn’t see _his_ expression. He didn’t want Zoro to be able to see that emotion behind his eyes, knew Zoro would able to read it even if Sanji never said anything.

Hands still wandering over him, Sanji gasps and whimpers under him as they fall into the worst and best kind of love and loathing.

 

  

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He was genuinely surprised to find him there in the morning, sitting by his bed, drinking sake he no doubt stole from Zeff’s kitchen.

The morning light is playing on Zoro’s back, shadows highlighting the candy pink lines from Sanji’s fingernails draped over the sharp angles of his shoulder blades. The light is playing on his hair, making it a gentle shade of green. The muscles on his back are tight and tempting, but Sanji isn’t paying attention to that.

Sanji sits there, perfectly still with his breath caught in his chest when his eyes catch the ugly scars Zoro has collected since he last saw him. Despite the grotesque scars covering his body, Sanji knew the ones in his heart were worst. He wants to touch him, but he doesn’t.

“How long are you staying?” he asks instead.

“Good morning to you too,” Zoro said without turning back to him, voice coated with mockery.

“Fuck you. How long are you staying?” he asks, less patience in his voice.

“Do you want me to leave?” Zoro asked, the same flat calm that made Sanji nervous, made him sick.

Sanji doesn’t answer.

“I’ll be gone tomorrow,” he answers, not looking at Sanji at all. His voice sounded calm, he had said it almost in a sigh, but then again, Sanji might have imagined it.

Sanji played with the sheets, bunching them inside his fists, watching his own skin wrap tightly around his knuckles as he makes a fist. He trained his blue eyes on his pale fingers; not wanting to look at marred tanned flesh. “You’re up unusually early.”

Zoro shrugged, and he goes back to drinking, almost as if Sanji wasn’t important enough to answer anymore.

Before, in the Sunny, Sanji would have crawled towards Zoro, wrapped his arms around his shoulders from behind, pressed his chest to Zoro’s back, kissing and sucking on his earrings. They used to share those moments in the mornings when the crew was still asleep.

He couldn’t do it now, he knew it would feel wrong, knew Zoro would most likely push him off. Sanji sighed, throwing off the covers. Sanji walked over to where Zoro had left his clothes, which happened to be by his feet. He dressed in front of him, felt Zoro’s eyes on him, and it would have been just like it used to be, except Sanji didn’t blush.

When Sanji did look at him before he left to go make breakfast, he saw dark circles under Zoro’s eyes, saw the tension in his body and knew he hadn’t been sleeping well, knew Zoro probably hadn’t slept at all the previous night. Zoro noticed his staring - of course he did- and his eyes slid into deadly slits, daring Sanji to say anything.

“Don’t let anyone see you,” Sanji said, closing the door after him.

 

  

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He didn’t need to tell Zoro to not be seen. No one ever saw Zoro.

Even after the crew split, the seven of them still kept in contact; still visited each other. When the crew asked him if he saw Zoro, he always said the same thing. No. Sanji had his suspicions the crew knew, but they never spoke a word of it and he was thankful. 

When newspapers wrote articles about Zoro and his whereabouts, everyone stopped asking. Every paper wrote about Roronoa Zoro killing pirates. The papers described him as rouge, a demon, a murdering psychopath.

The first time he saw Zoro after their separation, Zoro had attacked him, pinning Sanji to the wall in a threatening and deadly assault and Sanji thought he had completely lost it, thought Zoro wanted him to hurt or kill him, but Zoro had kissed him. Then all those memories of late nights in the crow’s nest or in the kitchen came back, and he welcomed Zoro back into his life.

It had been foolish. He had honestly thought he could mend the unstitching of his heart, thought he could help Zoro through the pain in his heart. Sanji had been convinced he could undo the pain and find the man he once loved hidden behind the demon everyone thought he was.

Of course it never happened.

Sanji hadn’t tried to make conversation in a long time. Before, he used to ask Zoro questions, desperately pleaded and yelled at Zoro to tell him exactly where the fuck he had been, demanded to know who the fuck did he think he was for not keeping in touch, for making everyone worry.

That was before the papers showed the swordsman with blood on his white shirt, and with eyes colder than any Winter Island Sanji ever visited. The papers said he had fought Mihawk and won. They only skimmed over the fact that Zoro had sliced Mihawk in half. After that he stopped asking. He didn’t want to know what Zoro did, where he went, only asked why the fuck he kept coming back even if the question was redundant. 

Those nights when Zoro came back, Sanji never drove him away even if he wanted to. Because he wanted _his_ Zoro. He wanted the Zoro he knew, not the Zoro in front of him.

The Zoro he loved died the same time Luffy did.

So Sanji held onto what he could, held onto Zoro and never pushed him away because Zoro needed it. He finished his cigarette on deck, watched as the red sun sunk behind the glimmering ocean, turning the blue waters into ink.

 

  

.|.|.

 

  

He’s sprawled on his back, legs spread wide to fit Zoro between them. Dry lips roamed over the skin of his belly, white teeth nipped at his stomach. Calloused hands held Sanji’s sides as Zoro made his way down, and Sanji gasped when he felt his lips on him, wrapping around his head. He groaned when he was let go and Zoro moved down to kiss his legs.

His fingers tugged on Zoro’s hair, wanting to feel his lips back on his cock. Zoro growled, biting on the inside of his thigh. Sanji moaned, fingers still gripping his hair, trying to tug his head higher. But Zoro never did what he was told. He moved over him, kissing Sanji on the lips, hard, his teeth hitting against Sanji’s. Zoro broke the kiss not too long into it.

“Look at me,” Zoro commanded, hand yanking on Sanji’s blond hair.

Sanji’s eyes flew open, and then all at once he’s looking into black orbs and he remembers why he usually kept his eyes closed.

“I know why you close your eyes. I don’t need your fucking pity,” he snarled. “Don’t think I don’t know you.” He sounds angry, and it’s the first time Sanji has seen any kind of emotion on Zoro’s face, and Sanji can’t come up with a response.

The next kiss is sudden; Zoro’s tongue sweeps inside his mouth, licking at the roof of his mouth. Zoro is kissing hard enough to make Sanji’s lips swollen. Sanji is filled with a need, a want to have Zoro inside him, but he knew Zoro needed him more than words could ever say. Sanji arched for him, kissing his jaw, “I want you.”

They both ignored the fact that he was changing the subject, another conversation they avoided.

Zoro sat back, moving to Sanji’s drawer where he kept his lotion and oils for when Zoro came around. Sanji heard the cap of the lotion, watched Zoro through fluttering thick lashes as Zoro added some lotion his flushed cock. He gasped when Zoro entered him, sliding easily into his body. He tightened around Zoro, trying to adjust to the intrusion as Zoro’s cock settled into the hot depths of his body. Zoro thrust deep between his thighs, his head bowed and grunting with every moment. Sanji clings to Zoro as he fucks him into incoherence and pleasurable spasms.

Above him, Zoro pants into his open mouth, and Sanji drinks in his struggling breath. He wrapped his arms around Zoro, kissing him sweetly. The swordsman frowned into the kiss; then fucked him harder. It didn’t matter to Sanji, he knew Zoro needed those sweet kisses, needed to know there was someone who loved him and gave a damn.

Then Zoro braced himself on Sanji’s mattress, leans into him then thrust harder, making Sanji’s legs quiver. He felt his orgasm creeping up on him, felt Zoro start to lose it too. Sanji let Zoro fuck him roughly, relentlessly. They both wanted it, needed it like they needed air.

He fell apart under him, held onto him, cursed under his breath, rode out his orgasm, moving his hips to meet Zoro’s. His breath hitched when Zoro buried his teeth into his shoulder to muffle his moans when he came inside Sanji. Zoro ground down him, grinding his pelvis, and Sanji feels that familiar rush inside of him as Zoro claims him.

Sanji shuddered when Zoro pulled out, his orgasm dripping down his thighs. Zoro kept himself up on shaking elbows before he collapsed on top of him. Adrenaline is still pumping in Sanji’s veins, and his heart is beating too fast. Sanji tries to even his breath, pulls Zoro closer to him. Zoro hides his face in the space where neck met shoulder, could feel his lips on his throat, not quite a kiss, but the touch wasn’t accidental.

Minutes go by in silence; then he feels Zoro’s shoulders shake and moisture on his neck. Then it hit him.

“I’m so sorry,” Zoro whispered into his neck. His voice broke, and his entire body shudders like he’s been holding that apology back for so long.

The problem with Sanji was that he knew Zoro too well. He knew Zoro, knew he was willing to sacrifice his life to keep others safe. He was loyal and protective of the ones he loved. Zoro was the type to tease the ones he loved, hide behind fake frowns because he thought his smile made him look stupid, even if others told him otherwise. Zoro was also the type to carry guilt for years.

He blamed himself for Luffy’s death.

Sanji closed his eyes, wrapping his arms more tightly around Zoro. “It wasn’t your fault,” he said, his voice cracking. He hadn’t realized, but he had begun crying too. “Stupid marimo.”

All those years, Zoro wandered around thinking he was a failure as a first mate for not protecting his captain. He carried that guilt, thinking it was his fault. That idiot, he thought killing Mihawk would bring him peace for fulfilling Kuina’s promise, thought killing all those pirates that had killed Luffy would bring him comfort. 

That idiot thought it would make it better.

When Zoro left the crew, when he disappeared from the other’s lives, Sanji had asked him why he left. Zoro said he would rather be alone than watch any more of his friends die.

Zoro cried more, silent sobs filling the room. Sanji hugged him tighter, “Stop blaming yourself idiot.”

Maybe he would never get his Zoro back, but he would cling onto whatever was left because the man inside was who he fell in love with. And maybe he would never get Zoro back, but he knew he would be there if he did. For now, he would still continue being there, helping him until he did. The man he was still in love with.

“How?” he asked, he had stopped crying. It didn’t matter to Sanji though; Zoro hasn’t been this honest and raw with him in a long time. “My friends died,” he whispers into Sanji’s ear like it’s a secret, and Sanji absorbs every word. “They-,” he stops, and Sanji knows Zoro doesn’t want to vocalize it.

“I’m here Zoro. I love you.” He hugged him tighter. “You have me.”

Zoro had once saved Sanji and the rest of them, if Zoro hadn’t of sacrificed himself; the entire crew would be dead. He had saved them. If Zoro had once been willing to lay his life on the line for the entire crew, Sanji was willing to do what he could to save Zoro.

“You’ll always have me,” he said honestly. He felt wet tears running down the sides of his face.

Sanji held him until Zoro fell asleep.

 

  

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Zoro was gone in the morning, just like he promised.

Sanji sat up, looking for any sign that he was still around. Boots by the door, his swords propped against the wall, his shirt thrown about, anything. Nothing. He was gone.

With a sigh he laid back down, turned on his side, facing where Zoro had slept. He closed his eyes, imagined days back on the Sunny when Zoro slept next to him. Days when Zoro smiled and slept all day. Mornings when they would wake together, arms and legs around each other. Mornings when Luffy woke up, demanding Sanji to make him breakfast with a smile that illuminated everything better than the morning sun.

Mornings that would never happen again.

He opened his eyes and looked out his window, saw the morning start to dress in grey, and he thought about all the things that were left unsaid between them. His temples started to ache and his vision blurs with tears and everything hurts.

Sanji cried for the first time since Luffy died.

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
